Feels Like Home
by BoothBonesLover1
Summary: Post Ep for 3x19 'Heart of Darkness'. Elena has conversations with each of the Salvatore brothers that help her sort through her feelings in aftermath of her encounter with Damon, and helps her to act on her decision.


**So clearly last night's episode was the best thing ever. EVER. The kiss was everything I had wanted and hoped for a first (Elena driven) kiss between them, and I think that everyone involved did a phenomenal job. And of course, I was inspired to write this. I woke up about two hours ago with it stuck in my head, and I had to get it down on 'paper'.** **Hope you enjoy this little look into Elena's mind in the after math of 'Heart of Darkness'. Imagine some beautiful Florence and the Machine behind these conversations (it's funny because she's all I listen to when I write Damon/Elena).**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, otherwise the only thing we'd ever see on screen ever week would be one hour versions of what we got 30 seconds of last night. But they'd have less clothing on, and less Jeremy interruptions.**

* * *

Elena sank down onto her bed, head in her hands, eyes drifting closed, tears threatening to spill from her tired eyes. She was a wreck. She was emotionally drained. She was exhausted. She was… she was so many things, she couldn't even think straight.

(What had she done?)

Images of Damon flashed across her eyelids, and she lost the ability to breath for a moment as she remembered.

The look in his eyes when she had kissed him seared in her mind. (How was it possible to see that much love and adoration in the eyes of one person?)

The smell of him lingering in the air. (The smell that made her go weak at the knees, literally, that was so undeniably Damon.)

The taste of him hidden in the corners of her mouth. (The taste of spice, and bourbon, and blood, and heaven. She craved that tasted, nothing satisfied anymore.)

The touch of his hand as it had brushed against the side of her breast still tingling in her skin. (How she had wanted that hand to touch other things. How she would have let it if Jeremy had not shown.)

The overwhelming desire to positively devour him still present in her mind. (She couldn't think of anything else. Damon. Damon. _Damon._)

And then… the look in his eyes when she had been unable to define her feelings for him. (How could she live with herself for causing such pain to something that beautiful? It was like she had seen him break before her.)

The hurt in his voice when he had told her that he wasn't going to make it easy for her, that he wasn't going to lash out. (The determination, the resolve.)

The wounded and vulnerable air that was rolling off of him in waves, suffocating her. (How could she have hurt him – again? Was she a monster?)

"How was Denver?"

Elena's head shot up and out of her hands, eyes wide open in surprise to see Stefan sitting on the window sill. Hands folded in his lap, eyes studying her intently, the moonlight reflecting off of them in the darkened bedroom, and she shivered in –surprise? disgust? She wasn't sure what…

(But it still begged the question, how had it come to this – that the sight of Stefan would elicit such unpleasant feelings in her?)

Elena shook her head gently as she tried to think of what she would say to Stefan about Denver. It was terrifying? It was great? It was enlightening? It was so scary? It was the best minute of her life when she had her lips crushed against those of his big brother, her body pressed against his from head to toe?

(All those things were true.)

"It was…" she started in a whisper, "It was…fine. We got what we went for, even if it means we're no better off now."

Stefan studied her silently for a minute, and she stared back, unsure of where to take the conversation next. His face was stoic, his eyes were blank –a mirror of hers she was sure. She waited for him to speak again – to speak or to leave, she didn't really care which. All she wanted to do was be left alone to wallow in her self pity and re-play her moments with Damon over and over again in her head in an attempt to find some clarity – and find some way to fix it.

(When did having a conversation with her 'soulmate' become so difficult?)

Stefan cleared his throat softly, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

(That question was so loaded.)

Elena shifted her eyes away from his, unable to look at him when more images of Damon were flashing through her eyes. "What do you mean?"

(Was he really asking what she thought he was asking?)

"I mean…" he started with a frustrated sigh, clearly uncomfortable asking what he was about to ask. "I mean, did you have a chance to sort out anything with Damon."

"No," she lied immediately, not even feeling a little guilty about it. Her time with Damon was hers, it was sacred, and she did not want to talk about it. The last person she wanted to give details to was Stefan.

Stefan's eyebrows shot up in surprise at her response. Clearly he did not believe her. "No?"

"No."

(Was it really a lie? They didn't actually sort anything out – she just confused everything even more. Again.)

Elena felt a rush of air, and looked up to see Stefan standing directly in front of her, so close, eyes looking down at her, a look that crossed between irritation, pity, and love gracing his features. She held his gaze almost defiantly, marveling at the fact that this was the closest that she and Stefan had been in a long time, and she didn't even have the slightest desire to reach out and touch him, to hold him, to be close to him.

(No, the only person that she had any interest in touching right now was definitely not in the room.)

"Elena, you can't lie to me. I know something happened, I can see it in your eyes, and I could see it in his. God, it's like you're not even here right now, you're thinking about it, whatever it was that happened there – you're thinking about him, I know it," Stefan said softly, regret lacing his voice, and she could hear the hope in it that he was wrong, that she would say something to prove him wrong. "You owe it to me to tell me…"

(And it occurred to her that Stefan had never been more right about something – she was thinking about Damon.)

Elena looked up at him again, feeling a twinge of sadness at the look in his eye. If she told him, really told him, then this was it. This – whatever hope it was that was still left between them - was done. Shattered. Irreplaceable. She had promised Damon that it was Stefan, and that it was always going to be Stefan, and she was breaking that promise to the both of them. Was she ready for that? Was Damon worth that risk? Was she ready for this hope with Stefan to be over?

(Yes. Of course. Damon was worth anything. Was it really even a question?)

"Before we went, you asked me if I have feelings for him, Stefan," she started, voice quavering as she tried to get her heartbeat under control. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

Stefan stepped back a step, his head slightly shaking, and she was glad for the extra distance between them, "God, Elena, I don't want to know, because I think I know the answer. But I need to know. I have to."

(He had to know.)

"If you need to know, then the answer is – yes," she said, feeling like a weight lifted from her chest at the admission. Why hadn't she been able to tell that to Damon when he had asked?

(Why had she been fighting it for so goddamn long?)

Stefan took a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he processed her words – but he said nothing. He shook his head, as if not wanting to accept her words, and Elena pressed on, needing him to understand.

"I feel for him, Stefan," Elena said, suddenly ready to explain herself, to give words to what was going through her mind.

"I know that this hurts you, and I'm truly sorry for that, I never wanted to hurt either of you – but I'm not apologizing for the way that I feel," she said in a rush, feeling lighter and lighter the more she explained, "I feel more for Damon than I think I've _ever_ felt for anyone in my life. He has been there for me when no one else has, when you were gone. He has been my rock, my savior, my best friend, my everything these past few months. He loves me _so_ recklessly, Stefan, and with his whole soul, and I can't ignore that. Damon makes me feel things that no one else ever has – and he makes me want to fight, and he makes me feel alive, and he makes me feel impulsive and free and out of control. And it's so scary that I don't even know what to do about it, but I feel for him Stefan, so much that I can't even explain to you how much I feel."

She looked up into Stefan's stricken eyes, and she felt a surge of pity, of sadness for him.

(They were over.)

"I'm _sorry_, Stefan," she said softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand softly, "I didn't mean for this to happen. But I don't regret that it did."

Stefan moved next to her, and sunk down onto the bed, letting his head drop into his hands, just the way she had been sitting when he had arrived earlier. She saw him shudder and thought she heard a sob escape his mouth.

"You love him," he whispered, and she could hear the tears in his voice, "Don't you?"

(Did she? Was that a question that she was ready to answer yet?)

"Yes," she whispered, wrapping her arm around Stefan's shoulders and squeezing him gently, "I think I do…"

(Nothing more true had ever left her mouth.)

* * *

She stood in the doorway to his room, breath hitched in her throat, eyes trained on his shirtless form sprawled back on his bed. She was paralyzed at the sight of him.

(How was it possible for one person to possess so much breath taking beauty?)

He took her breath away, literally, and seeing him transported her back to the moment on the motel landing when she just physically hadn't been able to _take_ it anymore, when she had known no other thought than that if she didn't kiss him right then, she thought she would die. Burst into flames and burn away.

(And now it seemed that she was dying a little every moment she wasn't kissing him.)

"What do you want, Elena?" Damon asked softly, eyes not opening, body not moving.

She took a step forward into the room, and then another, and another, gathering up her courage, desperate to make this right, to be close to him. If she had been able to tell Stefan how she felt about Damon, then she could tell Damon how she felt about Damon, right?

"Stefan came to talk to me," she whispered, and Damon's eyes flew open, locking on hers. She could see the pain in them, the expectation that she was about to crush him with a tale of reconciliation with his brother.

(Of course he would think that when she had never done anything to break her pattern, to make him think that she would choose him.)

"And…" he prompted, so quietly that she wouldn't have known he'd said anything if her eyes hadn't been trained on his sinfully beautiful lips – god they were beautiful. She took another few steps closer to the bed, moving her eyes up to lock on his.

"He wanted to know if we'd sorted anything out in Denver," she replied, wringing her hands as she looked for any reaction on his face. He masterfully kept it blank, although she could see the desperate hope in his eyes.

"What did you tell him?" Damon asked stoically.

(The truth. That she loved him.)

"I told him that it was done between us – between him and I, not you and me," Elena replied in a rush, adding the clarification when she saw a brief flash of confusion flit across Damon's face.

"You did?" Damon responded in slight surprise, moving to sit up, pushing himself to the edge of the bed, close to where she was standing. "You told Stefan it was over?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding, "It's been over between us for a while, I just need to figure out a way to deal with it…"

(To deal with the reasons why.)

"Damon," she started, taking a deep breath and moment to sort out exactly what she wanted to say to him. "You asked me if I had feelings for you…"

(It was now or never.)

She took one more step closer, to within arms length of him sitting on the side of his bed, and looked up into his eyes, holding his gaze as she spoke. "I don't why I said that I didn't know. It was a lie, Damon, I was scared – terrified, actually. When I look at you, I can barely think, I can barely breath, because the only thing that I can focus on is you. In that room, with you there, next to me, in the same bed, I have _never_ felt so overwhelmed, and I had to get out of the room before I did something that I thought I wasn't ready for – and you followed me, and I'm so glad you did…"

She moved closer to him, resisting the urge to reach out and splay her hands across the muscled expanse of his chest. "Kissing you like that was the first thing I've done for myself – because I wanted to, because I knew I needed to - in a long time, and although I know that I should think that it was a mistake, that I betrayed Stefan because it wasn't really over between us yet, and the promise that I made to him – I can't. It wasn't a mistake. It was amazing. It was everything I wanted."

(How could something that incredible ever be a mistake?)

"You are everything to me, Damon," she whispered, his eyes wide in disbelief, his hand reaching up to cup her face, his touch sending electric shocks through her body. "I'm sorry for trying to push you away. The way you feel about me scares me because I feel that way back, and I've never felt like this for anyone before, no one has ever had that much hold over me, and it's terrifying, Damon. I felt more in that 30 seconds with you that I have ever felt in my life, but I have never taken a leap of faith this big."

(He was either going to be the best thing that ever happened to her, or the worst thing.)

Damon's mouth was open in surprise, but she could see the light in his eyes, the hope that was springing there. "What are you saying, Elena?"

"I know exactly what I feel for you, Damon," she said after a moment's hesitation to gather up one last piece of courage. "I _love_ you, Damon."

(God, how she loved him. It was enough to take her freaking breath away.)

"God, I love you too, Elena," he choked out, and within a moment he had her crushed against him, his glorious lips on hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming her as his own. She nearly wept in relief and happiness.

(This was where she belonged. This was what was right. How could she ever have doubted?)

She wrapped her arms around him, fisting one hand desperately into his hair as she pressed herself even closer against him, reveling in the feeling of having him against her from head to toe. He broke their kiss to let her breath, and she gasped in cool mouthfuls air as he pressed open mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, her eyes rolling back into her head at the amazing sensation. She felt drunk. Delirious. Completely consumed. Wanted. Head over heels.

(This was what being alive felt like. This was what love felt like.)

"Damon, god, I love you," she breathed as she pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing her way along the line of his jaw, because now she had said those words, it was all she could think. She loved him. She loved him.

(She _loved_ him.)

"I'm never ever letting you go, Elena," Damon said, capturing her lips fiercely with is, hands everywhere, unable to get enough of the feel of her against him. "I love you too much."

(She was never going to go.)

"I'm never going to go, Damon," she whispered, resting their foreheads together, eyes locked on his, "There is no where else that I want to be."

(She was home.)

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**I hope you liked it! It was a different type of a story from me. I'm thinking of expanding it to have and nice M rated scene, but we'll see. It seemed like a really good place to end. Thanks for reading! I heart reviews!**


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